Page 28

28

SERA

S omething feels different.

The sheets cling to my skin, cool where his heat once was. My body aches in places it shouldn’t. Muscles unused to such brutal, consuming touch. But it’s not just that. It’s the weight in the air. The shift.

I inhale, sharp and controlled, forcing the trembling in my limbs to still. The room is quiet, save for the distant crackle of embers in the hearth. But I feel him.

Veylan is watching me.

I don’t turn at first. I don’t want to see it. The satisfaction in his expression, the ownership.

But the silence stretches. Tightens.

I risk a glance.

He’s sitting in the high-backed chair near the hearth, shirtless, one elbow propped on the armrest, fingers resting against his temple. Watching. Studying.

Not smirking. Not victorious.

Something else. Something worse.

Possessive. Hungry.

My throat tightens. I brace myself for the next blow, the reminder that I am nothing more than a conquered thing. The cruelty I’ve come to expect.

Instead, he moves.

Not fast. Not harsh.

Just closer.

The mattress shifts under his weight as he sits at the corner of the bed. My pulse slams against my chest, but I force myself to meet his gaze, unwilling to flinch. His fingers lift, barely brushing my wrist, tracing along the skin like a hunter mapping the fragility of his prey. There’s nothing soft about it.

It is deliberate. Measured.

It infuriates me.

“You’re quiet,” I whisper, lips barely moving. The words are meant to provoke, to test. To see if I can rattle the cage he’s built around himself.

Veylan says nothing.

His grip tightens—not painful, not yet. Just a warning.

Heat pulses in my stomach, and I hate that my breath hitches at the touch of his fingers. Hate it.

I steel myself. “You got what you wanted.” My voice is thin, careful. “What now?”

He watches me for too long.

He stands, pulling away as if something about this moment unsettles him too.

My skin burns where he touched me.

He turns his back to me, reaching for his tunic, sliding the fabric over his shoulders. I should feel relief. I don’t.

“Get up.”

His voice is unreadable. Controlled.

I hesitate. He doesn’t like hesitation.

He turns just enough to look at me over his shoulder, and that silver gaze flickers with something dangerous.

“I said get up.”

I clench my jaw, ignoring the soreness in my limbs as I push myself upright. My legs feel weak when they hit the floor, but I refuse to stumble. Refuse to show him anything less than defiance.

I reach for my dress, the fabric pooled at the foot of the bed, but Veylan beats me to it. He picks it up, fingers tightening around the material before throwing it at me.

It’s not gentle. It’s not cruel.

I don’t understand it.

He should be out there. Commanding. Killing. Yet he’s here.

Why?

I say nothing as I dress, feeling his eyes follow my movements, dragging over my skin like a brand. The moment I’m done, he turns on his heel, strides to the door. “Follow me.”

I should hesitate.

But I don’t.

Something coils tight in my stomach as I move behind him, each step matching his as we exit the chamber. The corridor outside is empty but heavy. It is not in the stone walls or the torches flickering against the dark marble?—

It is in them.

The dark elves. Watching.

The moment we step into the open hall, they see me.

It’s different this time.

Not just the usual mixture of contempt and amusement.

Now, there is curiosity. Calculation.

I hate it.

My spine stiffens, but I keep my head high, refusing to cower. If they want to stare, let them. Let them wonder.

Veylan does not slow.

He moves through the fortress with the same cold grace, commanding every space he enters without effort. But I can feel it, the tension that follows him like a shadow. Like he doesn’t trust them to look at me too long.

A slow realization blooms in my mind.

They do not look at me because I am a human.

They look at me because I am something else.

The thought rattles me, and in that moment, something shifts.

The world tilts, just slightly. The edges of my vision blur, the sensation creeping through my bones like something reaching for me.

Veylan stops.

His hand snaps out, fingers closing around my wrist, pulling me back before I can stagger.

I barely breathe.

He studies me, gaze narrowing. “What was that?”

I shake my head. I’m unaware.

Something inside me is changing.

I can feel it.

I can feel him.

His grip lingers too long.

His jaw tightens. Then he releases me.

I don’t thank him.

But something about the way he watches me as we continue walking tells me he wouldn’t want me to.